


Mimesis

by Bimo



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bimo/pseuds/Bimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Essentially it's spin control. A glimpse at Julian Bashir right after the "In Purgatory's Shadow /By Inferno's Light" two-parter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mimesis

**Author's Note:**

> To Selena, because it was just after re-reading some of Selena's older DS9 stories when inspiration suddenly struck... :)  
> I also would very much like to thank my betas Tli and Revdorothyl for doing such a great job!

MIMESIS  
by Bimo

"Odo, why are you doing this?"

"I wish I could be of help, Doctor. Unfortunately there's nothing I could tell you that isn't already contained in my reports to Starfleet Intelligence."

Julian has no reason to doubt the Constable's motives. So he just nods, quietly acknowledging the thin ice they are both treading on and the sincerity, even intimacy, of Odo's offer. Dealing with the realities of DS9's infiltration must be as difficult and personal to Odo as it is to him. Two people horrified and spooked to their core by the very same thing, just from opposite angles, and neither of them daring to speak out the one essential fact occupying their thoughts.

 _The Bashir Changeling -- it's fascinating, isn't it?_

While the words are already fully formed in Julian's mind, they somehow won't find their way over his lips. After two or three breaths, he picks up his PADD again to continue where he had stopped when the Constable had approached him, sitting in one of the bar's less exposed corners.

"Thank you anyway, Constable. Now, I hope you’ll excuse me, but I need to read up on this bio-enzymatic protein supplement."

"I see."

With these words the conversation gets nipped in the bud. As Odo heads straight out of Quark's, Julian can't help but look after him from over the rim of his PADD, observing the Constable's stiff yet at the same time oddly fluid movements. Something so unique, so _unchangeably_ "Odo" that any deeper, rational thought related to what the more experienced members of Odo's species are capable of instantly strikes Julian as profoundly wrong.

He hopes he can keep it that way; keep a clear, distinct line between Odo and the Founders, at least for the moment.

The very essence of shape-shifting? The full implications -- including the metaphysical ones -- of mimicking another sentient being so perfectly that not even his friends over a period of four whole weeks were able to tell any difference? Of course, Julian would be dying to discuss that, especially with Odo. Not now, though, he admonishes himself. Not at such an early point when he can't even safely tell what falls under justified scientific interest and which questions, which sensitivities, are merely derived from his own bruised and trampled-on ego.

There are reasons why Julian has put himself on light duties for the time being -- the most important issue, of course, is the one that he can never admit to anyone. From a certain perspective it's almost as if the good old times of his teenage and early Academy years have come back to haunt him. Genetically enhanced miracle boy, flying all on his own, wondering how far his physical and behavioural long-term reactions will deviate from human standards. Knowing all too well that if they do so too obviously, in either direction, he's done.

There's no point denying the truth. The 20th century Augments, the one true group of reference Julian will ever have, probably would have bounced back from last month's events just like over-accelerated racket balls, likely to come back with a vengeance.

So he's playing it slowly and carefully, questioning every thought, every move. Essentially it's spin control. No serious tasks except taking turns with Ziyal to check on Garak, his heart heavy with every visit. But otherwise it's just dusting off a few old research projects of his and saying hello to young Kirayoshi O'Brien.

His Bajoran colleagues have already commented on how remarkably sensible Julian Bashir behaves for a doctor, as he's making a point of sticking firmly to their advice. Regular, well-balanced meals, plenty of rest, a randomly selected preventative shot of antibiotics. So far there have been three rather longish sessions with Counselor Telnorri, which of course helps as far as dealing with the horrors of Dominion Internment Camp 371 is concerned, but seems utterly pointless, even dangerous, in regard to the underlying larger personal issues.

"Son, you are doing yourself no favours. Freaking out over not freaking out, just because you feel that you should at some point. Please be kind to yourself, yes?" Telnorri's voice still echoes in Julian's ear.

After a brief sigh he reaches for his tea, only to find that apart from a few dregs, by now lukewarm and bitter, left at the bottom, he must have emptied the whole mug without even noticing. Well, time to leave anyway, he thinks. Better to do so now, before Quark's fills again with the first rush of after-shift customers. He doesn't feel like bumping into Miles or, even worse, Jadzia, who, in his estimation, is by far the likeliest person to finally drop the smiles, excuses and pretences to at least try coming clean. Old Man Dax -- beautiful, witty, charming, intelligent and actually a quite merciless advocate of all things you just don't want to hear.

He can almost imagine her looking at him, one eyebrow raised, her ink-blue eyes distant. "You're forgetting that we live in interesting times, Julian. Tell me, do you really believe that people are watching this closely over anyone who isn't their immediate kin?"

But of course, Julian does.


End file.
